Backstories
by Zerixa
Summary: Backstories and other stuff I've written for my D&D characters, my DM thought they were good, so I thought "hey, why not share them with the world, right?"
1. Rowen Clearbrook

Rowan Clearbrook

Age 0: She was the bastard of a wealthy merchant's daughter from the harbour town of Gale. She was left out on the plains 5 km from the gates in the hopes that the aggressive giants would step on her on their yearly migration east. Instead, she was found by one of the more peacefully dumb tribes and adopted.

Age 6: Rowan grew, and when she was about six years old, she was considered the smartest person in the tribe, not that that was such an accomplishment. Anyhow, as a _smart_ person she desired more than what she had. Her thieving days began with nicking straw baskets, pouches of berries and a leather bracelet with small shells sown on to it. She still has the bracelet, her first _real_ theft, and uses it as a belt and lucky charm.

Age 7: This selfish and _smart_ behaviour was deeply frowned upon by everyone she stole from, especially since she tended to flaunt the things she took. Barely a year went by before they left her to her own devices outside the gates of Runedale one night, tied up and gaged with all the things she had stolen, they were after all hers now. The guards had been terrified; the smallest of the giants had been 2 meters taller than the walls.

Age 7: As you can imagine Rowan had always been small compared to her friends and family, the tiny giant, that was what they called her. This, she was used to. When she then came to this village full of halflings, dwarfs and even a human or two, she felt big; or at least bigger. Dodging the small feet of these new people was easy, only there were more of them to dodge. Their valuables, or things she knew she wanted by instinct because it was someone else's, were closer to the ground, and her, but they were more used to thieves like her too. All in all it proved more difficult to nick stuff in the world of tiny people.

Age 7-16: For months she struggled with understanding the concept of money and metal as anything more than what it was. She didn't know common either, so there was no getting work, even if she had been interested in that. Her big ego also got her into trouble, more than once. When she was really down in the dumps after about three months the temple of Avandra was her saviour. They took her into their folds in good faith, and taught her the language, and other basic things they found she lacked, like a proper name instead of garbled sounds, how to use a lavatory and 'how not to eat with your face, you have hands you know'. Trying to teach her how to read was a lost cause though. It took too much time, and by then she was thoroughly sick of all the priests telling her that stealing was wrong. So she moved on, by sneaking aboard a boat heading for The Crusted Sea, the ice-covered north.

Age 16: With the motto of her tribe, 'the coward hides in the back', and Avandra's doctrines of 'the brave and bold are rewarded richly', she started a rather short carrier as an assassin in one of the greater, colder cities in the world. She was recruited by a man called Joseph Ragnan, who was impressed when he watched her entertain a crowd of people by throwing daggers purposefully ineptly, whilst robbing them blind as well. He thought to himself, _someone who can pretend to be that bad a throwing knives is surely a master deceiver, better get this one before the Thieves Guild does._

Age 16-17: She tried killing people for a while, but discovered it wasn't as much fun as she thought it would be, and quite frankly she didn't like it. She was surprised to find she had a moral compass and it pointed away from murder. The fact that she wasn't always allowed to loot the corpses didn't help either. Unfortunately one does not simply leave the Assassin's Guild. You either live as an assassin, or you die a murderer.

Age 17: As I said she still had some of the mentality of the giants. That meant her solution to this problem was simply to try and scare her fellows into letting her leave. That resulted in a lot of shouting and growling, and a few broken noses. That got her nowhere. The other thing she had learned from her tribe was that when attacked, the leader must be protected, or the whole tribe dissolves. So she killed the leader. It wasn't all that hard. He was old, unprepared for such a rash and stupid tactic, a very self-confident elf, and didn't wake up and see her before it was too late.

Age 17: The plan didn't go exactly as she had hoped. After all, with him gone who would do all the paperwork? The guild was livid, but not broken. Luckily no one thought she had actually done it, especially since he had been strangled, and her hands were surely to small, right? Well, that was right, sort of. They were small, but strength and technic went a long way. She slipped away in the night and moved on to an ever bigger city, a dwarf city in the snow-covered mountains further inland.

Age 18-21: With a big helmet and a scarf she could pass as a tiny, skinny dwarf, since she was a rather tall, buff halfling. For a while it worked like a charm, no one suspected a thing, though they thought her accent was a bit off. They blamed it on her having been born topside and left it at that. She continued stealing, always getting bolder, stealing from bigger and stronger people, more important ones too. Once she stole from the gate guard Gerhard, a big brute of a dwarf, easily two heads taller than her, and three times wider, just to prove that she could. It was just a simple brass medallion, and she sold it on to some priest or other.

She also started sneaking into people's houses, a little breaking and entering. She particularly enjoyed breaking into the town hall and stealing the city's copper and gold emblem of a hammer and axe on a shield. Eventually they stopped making them out of solid copper and gold; it saved the city a lot of money. When Rowan discovered this, she of course stopped doing that, opting instead to break into the aristocrats' townhouses. That's when shit really hit the fan.

Age 21: Rumours started to flow in the city; a new, more aggressive thief was at large. Still a bit under informed about how people felt about being stolen from, when a bit down in her cups, she bragged about how it was her, and that the guards would never catch her. She didn't think anyone would rat her out, but they did, quite fast actually, fearing that she would steal from them as soon as she got the chance, which she probably would, or had already done.

Age 22: She was arrested and condemned in short order, pun not intended. As she was transported off to the block,- the aristocrats had demanded an execution-, someone slipped her a lock pick through the bars of the carriage, saying she was now indebted to, something she didn't quite catch, what with her imminent death hanging over her head and all. She escaped and fled the city with as much loot as she could carry without being weighed down. The rest, and there was a lot of it, the guards found a few days later. Of course instead of turning it over to the rightful owners of the upper class, they told said upper class that they hadn't found a thing.

Age 23-24: After this near-death experience, Rowan started to understand that not everybody liked getting their stuff nicked. The thought of others taking the loot she couldn't bring also left a sour taste in her mouth. For the first time she felt empathy with her victims. But she couldn't stop stealing, it was all she knew, and quite frankly it was a lot of fun. All these realisations led to the decision that she would simply stop stealing from those that would miss it. That meant aiming higher than merchant princes or lowly noblemen, since they had a knack for actually counting out their coin. Soon enough this landed her in another heap of trouble, since barons and lords for some reason have better trained, loyal, incorruptible guards than the ones she was used to, and because, for some reason, people that have a lot, are more afraid of losing it. They threw her in jail, and forgot about her, because there was a murderer at large at the time. For three months she sat there before her salvation came sliding through the bars again. This time there was just a note attached to the lock pick. Of course, since she had never learned to read or write, she threw it away.

Age 24: When she got out, she ran away, south again, and came to a city called Falkrest. Deciding that perhaps it was time to put the thieving business on the shelves for a while, she joined a mercenary company, choosing it for its name, The Giants. She was a bit disappointed to discover there were no actual giants in the guild, though some of the men were quite tall, and said their father had been a giant. Of course, if that was true, she felt very sorry for their mothers.

Age 24-28: She stayed with the company for some years, learning a thing or two about how to lie to someone's face without bursting into laughter, intimidate them with words instead of animal noises, and how to scale a wall with your daggers when you're caught in an alley with three guys on your tail. One of the wizards even tried teaching her diplomacy, but she quickly lost interest in it half-way and went with Marc and Dunir to straighten up the fellows working at the grain storages. Dunir claimed she was the tiniest thing he had ever been scared of, and she took that as a compliment, and an invitation into his bed. And he didn't mind.

Age 28: After a while even roughhousing the workers got a bit old. So she looked for something else on the board. Someone was looking for a courier that didn't mind getting his or her hands dirty, knew how to sneak around, didn't ask too many questions and liked gold. Rowan wasn't sure about the no questions thing, but she did like gold. So she delivered an anonymous package at an anonymous door, to some anonymous people, and thus began her life as a _drug dealer/smuggler_.

Age 28-33: The experience was thrilling, lucrative and well worth it, for a while. That was until she got to know her employer. Quaron was, to put it mildly, a complete arse. He was high of his own merchandise all the time, tried to use her in experiments a few times, once he actually succeeded, she saw green mice everywhere for a whole day, and he was all around a douche.

Age 33: When they got in deep trouble with the Lord of Falkrest, he told them to slay a dragon. They did, and for only a second she respected Quaron's display of courage, even if it was because he was high. But, when he stole from her, actually took her proof of slaying that dragon, the dam broke. When the Lord of Falkrest then wanted her to help hunt him down and kill him, she was more than willing, she was practically ecstatic. She showed the paladins, even that racist bastard of a lord's daughter Aria, where his laboratory was. Now was the time for revenge… and finally taking all his magical stuff.


	2. Mira Suntouched

**Mira Suntouched**

 **7 generations ago**

In a dilapidated hut on the outskirts of a particularly filthy village lived a lonely woman with nothing to her name, and no family. The only thing she did have was rage, motivation and a spell left to her by her father; a failed wizard who never amounted to much.

This particular spell was not really left to her on purpose, more like she found it as she was rummaging his corpse for the few valuables he did have. The origin of this spell was unknown, and the lonely woman did not care to know it, as she was not well versed in magic and had no idea what she was doing.

She had collected the reagents the spell required, with the hope that it would all be worth it in the end. It had to, she did many unsavoury and downright illegal things to acquire the ingredients, so it better.

She began casting, the spell scorching the rotted wood of the floorboards, the pure, uncontrolled, arcane energy lashing out. The ancient words tumbled from her lips, almost as if they were being pulled out. Smoke and ash filled the little room, the cracks in the walls and howling wind not being enough to keep the air clear.

Just as she was about to pass out from the sheer strain of the exercise, a shape appeared in the middle of the summoning circle, for that was what it was, even if she did not know this. The smoke cleared, the ash was blown away, adding another layer of grime to the already dirty walls. The shape seemed to grow infinitely, until it's presence filled every nook and cranny of the hovel.

" _Who dares disturb me, what manner of being are you… mortal woman?"_

The demon, for that was what it was, even if the woman had yet to realise it, seemed confused to be summoned by someone so insignificant and small, not to mention the décor. It inspected her with a disgusted interest, she seemed afraid.

"I-I- I didn't know." She said with a small voice, that puttered out to a whisper. Realisation finally hit her, she realised what was in front of her. At first it terrified her, but she was used to being afraid, her whole life was fear, but fear didn't scare her for long. After fear came that little treacherous voice that all desperate people have, telling her this was her chance, demons made deals with mortals.

"I want to make a deal, demon."

" _You mortals are all the same, it's always something isn't it, 'I want this', 'Make me rich', 'kill this person for me'. Honestly, can't you do anything on your own?"_

"I thought demons wanted to make deals with us?"

" _Of course, I'm not saying I'm not going to, I'm just saying you're all useless maggots and I hate you. Now what do you want,"_ he looked around, _"A spring cleaning perhaps?"._

"No! I want to be rich and powerful, I want a castle with servants and stables, I want fertile land, and most importantly I want to be able to shove it in everyone's face!" She was practically frantic, the demon felt maybe this was one of those you should just let slide. But he had to pay the bills so.

" _Sure, but what do I get in return?"_

The woman froze at that, what did she have to offer? What did she want to offer? Nothing of course, but that was not good enough. Then she smiled.

"When I am rich and powerful I will need a husband, and children usually come from that. You can have it; you can have all of them if you like!" She was not fond of children.

" _What am I to do with a child of an ungifted mortal like yourself? No, I will not have any spawn of yours."_

The woman's smile fell before the demon continued, it so enjoyed crushing the spirit of others.

" _But I will have the firstborn child in the 7_ _th_ _generation of your bloodline, as long as you make sure every one of your decedents practice magic in some shape or form, and hone their skills. Then on the 21_ _st_ _birthday of that child I will come to collect. And in case you were thinking of not upholding your part of the agreement," a feral grin slipped over the demons face, "I will ruin your family, I will find your spirit, and all those of your family, and I will torture you all for the rest of eternity"._

"Done."

The demon looked at the crazy woman with something akin to fear, the speed with which she had just agreed to doom her own future kin was astounding, and terrifying, truly the monsters were humans.

And so it was, the deal was struck and the woman got her lands, her riches, her power, eventually even a title of her own, and a child. A baby girl, raised by her cold unloving mother, sent away to the college of magi in Thay at the tender age of 4. At the age of 21 years the girl was told of the horrible deal her mother had made with the demon, impressing upon her the importance of continuing the bloodline.

"One day our descendant will pay the price girl, be grateful it is not you."

 **Further down the line**

This became a tradition, the deal, the pressure of high society, the importance of having a child, even if it was undesired, and the horrible reveal to the next generation. That is, until the 5th generation matron; a woman who loved her children dearly, and she had many of them, even before her 21st birthday. She was devastated to hear of her ancestor's betrayal, and what it meant for her treasured bundles of joy. But what could she do? If she broke the contract it meant everyone in her family would suffer eternity, including her children. It was a source of great distress, and with age the resolve to take care of the one unfortunate soul that would bear their ancestor's sin, and prepare her for the nightmare that awaited her grew strong.

So the day came, her first grandchild born to the youngest, but most gifted of her children. Such a tragedy. There were no sounds in the bedroom but for the wailing child, the midwife horrified at the sight. The babe had no iris or pupil, and a little tail flailed wildly as she held it. The 5th matron had not expected that the sin would manifest in such a way, a tiefling child, and she had yet to tell her daughter the reason.

The girl wanted to drown the monster, kill it, get rid of it, it was not hers, it could not be, she had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this.

 _Atala looked on in horror as her sister's baby was revealed to those present. She knew about the curse; she had prayed to the gods for deliverance. Once she had heard her sister was expecting she spent an entire week at the temple, giving her thanks that it was not her future child that would have to bear that burden. But this was too much, it was not fair, if any of this could be said to be fair._

 _Atala and their mother sat with her sister, explained why this had happened, and impressed upon her the importance of keeping the child, keeping it healthy, happy and safe. As they now realised, that also meant keeping her hidden, away from the masses that would surely tear her apart given the chance. It meant she would not go to Thay to learn magic; they would have to teach her themselves, small blessings she supposed._

 **Humble beginnings**

 **0-4 years:**

Mirabelle was born to a wealthy family, not knowing why she was the way she was, her family kept it a secret, not wanting to burden her further. She was a bright child, if lonely. Her mother was distant and would often cry if Mira tried to bond in any way. Her aunt Atala and her grandmother took care of her, none of the servants were allowed into the same part of the castle as her, and she began her lessons in magic shortly after her 4th birthday.

 **4-7 years:**

The older she got, the more questions she had, though after the first few times trying to get an answer out of any of the grownups she realised they would not be any help. She wanted to go outside, but that was dangerous, and so was not allowed. She wanted to learn about the cultures of the world, but Atala did not want to encourage her wanderlust, so those books were removed from the library. She wanted to play with other children, but the one time she snuck down to the stables to say hello to the stable hands, they screamed at the sight of her, and her mother locked her in her room for the rest of the day.

 **8-12 years:**

She became silent and closed in, most of her time was spent learning magical theory, of many different schools, eventually graduating early to start on the practical spellwork at the age of 11. She didn't know what it was for, why it was so damned important to learn all of this if she was never going to go out into the world and use it. Bitterness and resentment started to fester and grow at too young an age, something most people don't have to face until they at least hit puberty.

 **13-16 years:**

Ah yes, everything changed as she hit that special _period_ in her life, where the body changes and becomes even stranger than what it was. Her horns grew, her tail grew, others things grew, it was a mess. Atala found her crying over a book in the library one day; she had found a book about demons, one they had missed on their first scouring, a picture of a horned, tailed, winged demon on the open page. She was scared that was what she was, and that she would also start growing wings herself, making her even more of a freak. Atala spent the rest of that day consoling her, and resisting the urge to tell her the truth of her destiny.

Nearing her 16th summer, Mira found a purpose in her studies. A spell that would let her look normal, even if it was just an illusion. Once she learned it she would perform it in front of a mirror, and just stare at herself, her normal eyes, her tailless back, her hornless head… until the day her mother discovered what she was doing, completely by accident. That was the drop that did it. Everything her mother had held back came charging to the surface, the disappointment, the betrayal, and after she had managed to swallow all that, the realisation that she could no longer conceive. She was furious, at herself, at her mother, and her great great great grandmother, and at Mirabelle, for mocking her so.

She summoned a thunderstorm right into the room, the most powerful spell she knew, cracking the floor tiles, shattering the mirror and windows… and then it stopped. Mira stood there, hand outstretched, the ball of pure energy she had just released into her mother's heart leaving small blisters behind.

She ran, she didn't know what else to do, so she ran, right out of the castle, past the shouting guards, down the streets of the city that had grown around the estate over the generations, and out, out and away, never looking back.

 **17-20 years:**

After running away from home and the chaos she had left behind, she started to wander, to see the world, from behind a mask of magic. She wanted to learn, but on her own terms now, the things _she_ wanted to know. She also looked for an answer, to what she was, why she was, but those are things you cannot easily find in books.

She met others like her. The first time she was in shock, she didn't know how to react, and so left before the other could try to approach her. Once she talked to one, he told her that tieflings, for that was what she was, were the results of some form of infernal magic, a deal with demons and devils, usually for power, revenge, or love. She had a hard time believing any of those things about her mother, or her grandmother for that matter. Then again, she had never known them outside of the castle, and she had never thought her mother capable of anything like what had happened the day she left.

Her 19th winter, she got snowed in in a cave trying to cross the mountains at a bad time. She thought she might die, she adhered to no gods, but that night she prayed, to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately, someone was listening, a devil with a plan, who had had her in his sights for a while now. He came to her as she was about to fall asleep, probably unwittingly saving her life with only that simple gesture. He tried to convince her to make a deal, he would help her, if she agreed to take his masters gift, a terrible gift, promising power in return for being an agent of this fiend. She refused him, but she survived, if only out of spite.

Every so often the devil would return, she took to calling him Bob, as he would always bob his head at her, like a chicken. Plus, she had no hope of remembering his name, no wish to either. He would appear in situations where her resolve was weakest, when she was in danger, when she was hopeless. Ironically, every time he only succeeded in motivating her to keep going, to overcome the obstacle on her own, and every time he left, he had a grin on his face, as if he knew something she did not.

 **21 years:**

When the day of her 21st birthday arrived she was in a small town on the peninsula of Velen. The clouds were coming in, a storm was brewing, but there was something about it, something not quite right.

As she sat in the tavern, getting ass drunk as she had gotten into the habit of doing on her birthday, the thunder rolled in and the sky opened up over their heads. She was too focused on her cup to realise how silent the tavern had gotten before a sinister voice boomed over her.

" _I have come to collect on the debt."_

She swivelled around precariously on her chair, coming face to face with a demon, like taken straight out of the book; big, with horns and wings and everything else. She took another sip of her whiskey.

"I've been drunk… but I don't think I've ever been drunk enough to make a bet with a demon." She took another sip. The demon looked at her as if she should pull the other one, it's got bells on.

" _Surely you are aware of the deal I made with your ancestor? It's only been a few hundred years, if that even, you mortals and your short memories. No matter, a deal is a deal, you are mine, and your body will serve as my vessel on this plane."_

She took another gulp before nonchalantly jumping of the barstool and saying, "nah". The demon deflated a bit at that; that was not exactly the reaction he was expecting.

" _Your blood is on the contract, if you refuse this deal, everybody you love will suffer an eternity in the Abyss!"_

"I don't love anyone, so ok."

" _Your whole family, dead or alive, will belong to me!"_

"Go ahead, you can have them, they're a bunch of assholes anyways." She went to take another sip, but the glass was empty, that was disappointing.

" _I don't think you understand how this works, you do not have a choice in the matter."_

At that she stopped short. No choice? Her? Was he trying to be funny?

"I always have a choice; you piece of shit!" She threw the glass at him, and a bit unsteadily, ran out the door into the rain.

She really shouldn't have done that. The demon was pissed, there were rules to this, not that he gave a shit about following them, but other people still should. There was nowhere for her to hide anyways. He would always find her, like a beacon in the dark.

She rounded a corner, stopping to catch her breath. She didn't really think she could outrun him, but she would be damned if she wouldn't try. Then she heard a more familiar kind of sinister voice. _Bob_ , she thought. She turned to see his shit eating grin, like always.

"Get the fuck out of here, I don't have time for your bullshit as well."

" _Now, now, don't be like that. After all, I'm here help you."_

"Hah, I've managed to get out of worse things than this without your help. I'll just wait till I'm sober, then I'll defeat that bastard, and then, just for the fun of it, maybe I'll come after you next." She sounded confident, she didn't really feel it, more like a bit nauseous actually.

" _Hmph, I'm afraid, as stubborn as you are, you won't be getting out of this one on your own. That contract is binding, perhaps you did not sign it, but it is your blood, you were the price your family had to pay for their life of luxury and comfort. It's not fair, it's just what it is."_

She glared at him, he'd known, probably before he even came to her the first time, he had just been waiting for this moment all along. The worst part was that he was making sense. She couldn't get out of this one, there was nothing she could do, but she didn't really see how this scrawny, little imp could help.

" _I know what you're thinking, and you're right. I can't defeat that demon, I can't undo the contract you have with him, but I can set up a new contract, with my master Duke Palpaleos, and he can grant you the power you need to slay that beast on your own."_

"I don't have time to go over contract points with you, that thing is on its way!"

" _I am well aware."_

"You little shit!"

The booming voice of the demon rose above the heavy downpour.

" _You cannot postpone the inevitable little mortal! I have no patience with games. Come to me now, or I will make you suffer before I take your body."_

"Prff, haha, 'take your body' ah…eh, no wait, that's horrifying."

She looked up before taking a deep breath.

"Fine, what's the deal?"  
 _"I'm glad you asked."_ Bob said as he rolled out a comically long scroll that seemed to go on forever.

" _The main points are the standard, in exchange for power we will collect your soul in 10 years yadayada. The important bit here is this section, which is why my master has been watching you for so long. A special circumstance, a way out if you can manage to pull it off before the contract expires. You see, you are the culmination of 7 generations of selective breeding and magical influence. You have an astounding potential, unfortunately you have not really had the chance to develop it properly, to no fault of your own of course."_

She wondered if he was just so used to kissing up to his betters that now he just did it out of habit.

"Get to the point Bob."

" _Yes, of course. You need to grow stronger, much stronger, and when the time is right, my master will call upon you to help him."_

"Help him do what?"

" _I really shouldn't say it out loud."_

"You'll say it, or I'll make you scream it."

" _Angry, I can see why the demon likes you. Don't worry, it won't be anything you have to do on this plane. This is a matter of Hell."_

She really didn't want to do this, but what other choice did she have. She could see the shape of the demon, it looked like it was starting to tear up buildings, that was not good.

"Make it 15 years, and you have a deal."

" _10 years is standard."_

"I'm not standard, 15 years or you and your master can both go fuck a mindflayer."

" _Fine,"_ he sighed, and started scratching something down on the scroll.

" _Now, just sign here with your blood, initials here and here, your name here and an extra dot there just to be sure."_

He rolled up the scroll and sent it to Hell.

" _Good luck."_ And just like that, he was gone.

Mira didn't feel any different. Certainly not more powerful, but there was no other choice. If she did not face this demon, there soon wouldn't be much left of Velen. So she stood up, and remembered she was still drunk. _I'm so fucked._

She approached the demon just as he was tearing an unfortunate townsperson apart, limb by limb. She felt her gorge rise again, but forced it down.

" _Ah, finally, I was getting bored with these."_ He carelessly tossed the woman aside and faced her.

" _Something has changed. Is that defiance I see in your eyes mortal? You think you can resist me?!"_ His already deafening voice rose to a crushing volume, she refused to cover her ears though.

"That's right bitch," she spat, "I'm not going down without a fight."

And so it was, that Mira, though unbeknownst to her, high on the new powers granted to her by her patron, actually, to everyone's surprise, defeated the demon, thoroughly. And then she passed out, and woke up on the outskirts of town the next morning. The towns people didn't want her there, but had not the courage to hang her either. Probably thought it wouldn't work.

 **21-31 years:**

For the next ten years she continued her travels, continued to learn, earned money to buy tomes and spell books, preparing for whatever it was Pal… Palpou… she had no idea, that devil wanted with her. Every now and again Bob would bring her tomes, or point her in the right direction himself, he seemed almost like he was rooting for her, probably not though.

As the years ticked by, she actually made some friends, or acquaintances who didn't want to kill her out of hand. One of these were Gundren Rockseeker, a dwarf who occasionally hired her on his caravans as a mercenary. This time the rest of the crew he had hired was a bunch of nincompoops.


	3. Chuil

Chuil the slave

 **Age: 0-5**

Chuil grew up in the city of Calimport, also known as the city of slaves. She was born to a slave woman of chultan decent, her father the master of the house. She gained no favours during her time in the Hasham'ra filn household, and as soon as she reached her fifth summer she was sold off to another master.

 **Age: 5-10**

Her new master, the owner of one of the largest gladiator schools in Calimport, put her to do menial tasks, like washing and running simple errands. All the while she would, when she could, sneak of and watch the gladiators train. Every time she was caught she received a thorough beating, and learned a very important lesson; don't get caught.

When she started to grow, though still a child, some of the master's many visitors noticed her. One particularly disgusting man, a sultan with many wives and countless sons, cornered her while she was scrubbing a big pot in the kitchen. He hit her, called her a whore and _tried_ to rape her. Luckily Chuil had just enough presence of mind to realise what was about to happen, and not enough presence of mind to think of the consequences. She kicked his knee hard enough for it to bend the wrong way, grabbed a knife, and cut his throat. As she stood over the corpse of the sultan one of the guards that had heard the commotion came in and saw the bloody mess.

She was dragged in front of her master and the sultan's three eldest and most favoured sons. Her master was livid, how dare she, a slave, a child. She didn't even try to defend herself, there was no point, they didn't care. Her master told the sons that they could have her, to do as they pleased. The eldest graciously accepted, and immediately turned to her, addressed her directly and asked _her_ what he should do with her. Not seeing that there was anything to loose, she raised her head and looked him in the eye.

"Let me train as a gladiator, and bring you honour in the arena."

Everyone laughed, her now former master loudest of all. The eldest son simply smiled.

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

His voice was quiet, but had this magical ability to make everyone swallow their laughter. Her former master sputtered, surly he could not be serious, this child was weak and sickly.

"She had the strength to defeat my father; people have always said he was a skilled fighter in his youth, even you liked to remind him of that. Yet he is dead, and this _child_ has bathed her hands in his blood. I say she can train, and if she dies in the arena, then my father will be avenged."

 **Age: 10-18**

So she was trained as a gladiator, her strength grew with her. She was a force to be reckoned with, her fury and determination drove her. Already by the age of 16 she had won many honours in the arena for her master, the crowds cheered as she wrestled all kinds of animals. They went wild when she cut open her opponents and mocked their deaths by wrapping their entrails around her neck like a scarf. She revelled in the attention, the kill, the blood. It was a high she would never get tired of.

When she turned 18 they held a free for all cage fight; out of 50 contestants only one would get to leave. She was that one. Life was great until she was told she was being sold off again. She didn't understand what had she done wrong. This new master didn't want her fighting in the arena, which was all she wanted to do. He wanted her for some experiment, or as a body guard, she didn't quite know, as his accent was thick and hard to understand.

She was taken north, that was all she knew. They arrived at a dilapidated castle in the Icerim Mountains. She wasn't the only one, she realised as other robed figures had their own formidable warriors in tow. It didn't seem like all of them were slaves though, and she started to wonder what exactly was going on.

They were taken to a big room, a training area perhaps. She was given a weapon and told to survive. Then the fray started. She was pitted against men, elves, half-orcs and goliaths, formidable foes all of them. She came out on top, though it was a close call almost every time. She still didn't know what they wanted with her, and fighting without the cheer of the crowed wasn't as much fun, but she kept fighting.

 **Age: 19-21**

Later is was made clear that she had been chosen to fight for the glory of some powerful Being named Aermeiss. They would fight and kill, and always there were more opponents to overcome. She persisted, if only because she didn't know what else to do. The priests looked on in silence. She felt no joy, only rage and hate, a hate that had simmered down after she became a gladiator, but was now back with a vengeance. This was not what she wanted.

For two years, she fought. Climbing ever higher, gaining more renown and privilege amongst the cultist, but still was nothing more than a slave. There were whispers of what was approaching, an audience with the Being, a final slaughter before the best of the best would be presented.

The day arrived, she walked into the arena with _her_ sword, by the end of it she was wielding someone else's axe, and using the corpses of the fallen as a shield. She left victorious, beaten and battered, but victorious.

There was no respite. No time to breathe and revel in the fact that her "friends" had made it through the gauntlet as well. They were ushered into a great chamber, natural cave walls mingling with carved stone and wood. From the shadows a monstrous beast came forth, it's breath stank of death, it's scales glinted green in the light of the torches held by the priests.

A dragon. She could see the power and strength of this great beast with every move, the intelligence that glinted behind those yellow eyes as it scrutinized them. She was in awe. She wanted to fight it. Her muscles tensed in anticipation, was this the final test? Would they get to slay this serpent and bath in it's warm blood? She certainly hoped so.

The dragon locked eyes with her, its enormous head winded its way down to her, and it spoke? That threw her off.

"Mortal… I can smell your eagerness," it took a deep breath, almost knocked her right into it. "You will do well in my service, _if_ you are loyal." It hissed the words at her, looking for any sign of dissent. It found none; she was too shocked to do anything but stare. This was the Being? The great one these wackos worshiped? Just a dragon? She had expected something more, fantastical, like a demon, or an ancient evil. She was actually a little disappointed. It was formidable for sure, but not worthy of worship, though she felt few things were worthy of that.

 **Age 21-23**

Her training continued, but the days of a free-for-all slaughter were done. They were expected to guard the dragon, to kill any competitors, any who stood against him. She felt this was a bit… silly? It was a dragon, was it so weak that it could not protect itself? It needed _mortals_ to protect it? That didn't sound like a strong beast; more like a rich, fat slaver that deserved to be put down.

They were sent out to surrounding territories, ordered to raid other dragon's nests, break the eggs before they could hatch, slay any that dwelled within, and most importantly it seemed, bring back the hoard.

She grew ever more frustrated. The others didn't seem to mind as much, until she started to point it out. As she sowed the seed of doubt, they started to see it themselves. When they were out of the castle, on mission, much of the talk was centred around this topic. The arguments were heated, and more than once did the devoted feel the bite of her steel.

Eventually she had gathered a group of likeminded warriors, and the time was ripe. She and her teammates were given an audience with the beast. They were prepared, they had a plan, and were even ready for the dragon to expose them, to say that it knew exactly what they were planning, but it didn't. As it slithered into their reach, the fight began. The doors were locked, no one could enter, all that was heard were the roars of the dragon as it fought against the very people it had groomed to protect it.

It was no easy battle, but they had fought dragons before, they had learnt. By the end only three of theirs were dead, more wounded. The real challenge was to escape the castle. As soon as they stepped out of the doors to the chamber they were swamped by the devoted. In the scramble, it was every person for themselves. She made it out, only a few others, just as ruthless as herself, came after.

 **Age 23-28**

The thrill of dragon hunting could not be trumped by anything. So, they continued to slay the beasts, traveling the length and breadth of Faerûn fighting, killing, and selling any eggs they found to shady characters.

The adventure came to an abrupt end as they had pissed of some pretty powerful beings in their rampage through dragon country. Because, as it turned out, they hadn't really been killing the big ones, just their "babies". And even if chromatic dragons are not the sentimental type, they also don't like uppity mortals making a fool of them.

As they made camp a shadow fell overhead. Chuil saw only the glint of red scales before her whole world was searing pain and agony. She didn't see the others, didn't care, all she knew was that she needed to get out of there. She crawled, pulled herself into the cold river and let it take her. She couldn't swim, but even if she could, her body twitched, it burned, she couldn't control anything. She lost consciousness. The river carried her to safety.

She woke on a sandy bank, the worried face of a tiefling staring down at her. _Well that's new_ , she thought before her eyes fell on the most random group of people she had ever seen in her life.


	4. Jillian Seafarer - Story Hook

It was a cold day, the sun had vanished behind a thick cloud cover, and Jillian could see her breath in front of her. It had been hours since she lost sight of Susannah. She swore, for all that monk'y wisdom that girl was supposed to have, she didn't have a lick of sense when it came to the most rudimentary rule of hiking, "never leave your Seafarer behind, she can't navigate on land!"

She made her way up the tallest tree she could find, to scout out the area. She wasn't worried about Susannah, that girl could take care of herself. If the dragon swooped by, she'd probably punch it in the face. Jillian chuckled at the thought, tiny little halfling, punching a white dragon in the face, now that she would like to see one day.

The top of the tree swayed threateningly as she held on, scanning the surroundings, trying to see the city, or at least the smoke over the city. There was nothing, they had wandered to far, and the wind and snow was making it hard to see. What she did see was the ocean waves crashing against the rocks in the distance, and it was downhill from here, what luck! If she could make it to the shoreline, she could just follow that east and eventually she would get back to the city. Ah, the sea, was there anything it couldn't do?

So, she made her way down through the evergreen woods, the low branches slapping her in the face. She really did not like being in the woods, there was just so much- stuff, everywhere! How could people stand it?!

Eventually the trees started thinning out, giving way to the rounded pebbles and boulders that constituted most of the shoreline on Gundarlun. As she emerged from the woods, she immediately heard singing? Chanting? Many voices anyways, in unison seemingly trying to drown out the wind and the sound of the crashing waves. She hid behind a boulder and observed them from afar.

As far as she could tell, they were having a party. It was a strange place to have a party, and very cold. They didn't even have a campfire, which was odd, because they didn't seem to be wearing much clothes either.

She looked up in the sky, nothing but grey clouds, not even a hint of where the sun might be, and she had lost her compass somewhere in that blasted mountain. She took a deep breath and prepared to accidentally insult someone as she darted out from her hiding place and headed towards these strange people.

They didn't seem to notice her, completely focused on their chanting. She saw as she came closer that they were wearing fishnets! Actual, honest to Valkur fishnets, layers upon layers with in-woven shells and seaweed, they had bracers made of- she did a double take, were those made of turtle shell? How in the nine hells? And around their necks they had what she was fairly certain were shark teeth on a string. They definitely had a theme going here.

She walked up to them, not trying to sneak up on them or anything, they still took no notice of her. She was close enough she could reach out and touch the closest one; a man with the unkempt mane of black hair, stiff from the saltwater that they were splashing on their faces.

She cleared her throat; the gale swallowed the sound. She stood there awkwardly, uncertainly, before she took a chance and poked the man with the black crow's nest on his head on the shoulder and jumped back in case he lunged out. He did not. In fact, he didn't seem to notice her at all. None of them did, and she poked each and every one of them to make sure.

She stood back, just observing for a while, and noticed they weren't just splashing the water on their face, they were drinking it as well. Well, at least that had to mean it wasn't salt water, right?

She crouched by the bowl in the middle, and dipped a finger in, tasted it- and spat it out. It was definitely salt water. She stared at them in disbelief. How in Valkur's hairy ass- these people were crazy! And then she had a thought, a terrible thought, like many of her thoughts often are.

She took out a small vial that Susannah had given her. She looked at it, unstoppered it, and almost as if her hand was guided by some unseen force whispering in her ear _it'll be hilarious, you have to do it_ , she poured the content of the vial into the basin of salt water.

A few minutes went by, nothing happened.

A few more minutes passed. The person closest to Jillian, an elven-looking woman with bright yellow hair, started swaying, then giggeling, then put both hands solidly into the basin and started splashing the person next to her. She fell backwards laughing, and it was like she started something, because soon the whole assembly were laughing, splashing each other, and rolling around in the pebbles on the seashore.

Jillian's whole body was trembling with mirth and excitement. There was just something entirely satisfying with ruining a serious moment with bullshit, replacing dourness with fun, and disrespecting those that craved or demanded respect.

As the circle fell apart, the ritual ended, and the assembled masses now completely in disarray, the skies cleared, the storm passed, and Jillian could tell the way home.

She left the giggling people behind and started her trek along the shore back to Gundbarg, not really reflecting on what had just transpired, as per usual.


	5. Jillian meets Theo

Jillian could feel Susannah's eyes boring holes in the back of her head. She was too scared to turn around and just kept a firm hand on the rudder and her eyes peeled backwards to land, where the lights of Gundbarg were vanishing slowly in the distance.

It was night, the sky was clear, and the moon was empty. Only the stars were looking down on them. Susannah was the first to break the silence, so to speak, the sound shaking with her uneasiness. Jillian knew she didn't like the water, and the guilt lay like a stone in her belly.

 _It's alright…_ the words echoed in her mind, Susannah's mouth still closed as she spoke directly to Jillian's mind.

There was a pause, a long pause, before Jillian looked at her best friend of 5 years. Susannah was pale, and Jillian couldn't keep the smile off her face, the laughter bubbling up at the halfling across from her trying to be serious but looking like she was about to be sick.

"Hmph-hahaha, I'm sorry," she covered her mouth to muffle the sound, "I'm so sorry, please don't be mad at me, you just- you just look so out of place, like a fish on land. I'm so sorry." She left the rudder and went over to the swaying woman, sitting down next to her.

"I overreacted, I know. I shouldn't have punched him-"

 _-or bit him,_ Susannah interjected.

"Or bit him… But he said such awful things about you, how could you not want to punch him in that smug face of his?!" Her voice had risen a bit in volume as she felt the anger and indignation return, a bit subdued, but had the offending man been there in that moment, he probably would have gotten another black eye.

 _I- I feel the anger, and then I let it go- that is all. Acknowledge it and move on. The violence you put into the world will come back to you, as you can clearly see by where we are right now…_ She gave Jillian a pointed look and gestured to their surroundings.

"…yeah… I honestly don't know how stuff like this keeps happening…" The look of utter defeat and, distress even, made Susannah think that she actually meant that. Almost as if, in the moment of doing something so incredibly stupid as punching and biting a guard, she really did not think it would have any consequences. It was entirely confusing, and- annoyingly endearing. Susannah could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks, this was not the time for such thoughts!

"I think-" Jillian paused, actually thinking for once, "I think we should try and head southward, towards Neverwinter. I have a couple of friends there, good, solid people," she got that look in her eye that usually meant mischief, "and they know how to drink, a clear sign of good character." She laughed, completely missing the colour-change in Susannah's cheeks as the thought of new adventures consumed her mind.

⁓ѝ⁓

They kept sailing with the wind, headed straight for the reefs that marked the end of Gundbarg's borders, and the beginning of Luskan waters. It was dawn already, the sun just rising over the water's surface, the cold autumn air blowing them along at a fast pace. Susannah shook Jillian awake, this was the bit that required some expertise. Navigating through the rocks and making it safely through was not something she would even suggest doing on her own.

 _We're getting closer to the border, wake up!_

"uhe, huh? I'm up, I'm up… where are we?"

Jillian looked up as the rocks rose to greet them. Her face split in a wicked grin; this was her favourite part. With practiced ease she lead the small boat through the reefs, cruising on the lazy waves, taking a few risks that had Susannah grumbling in the back of her head, but she just laughed and the grumbling quieted down.

Eventually the rocks started tapering off, the seafloor gradually falling away into the deep darkness, the sun rising ever higher in the sky. And that was when they saw the ship, an enormous man o' war. That and the two flags billowing in the wind, one a deep purple, the other white with a smudge on it that was no doubt the Finnley family crest, told her all she needed to know, this was The Mistress, one of the five flag ships of the Luskan army.

"Lu—Luskan fuuuuck, shit" was about all she managed to get out before taking the sail down and steering them in between some of the few remaining nearby rocks, wedging them there for the time being. Then they sat, and they waited.

Susannah was impressed with how long Jillian managed to stay still and not do anything stupid, though of course that did not last nearly long enough.

The boat was secure, it was not going anywhere, and the tension was killing Jillian. What was The Mistress doing so close to the reefs? If they were spying or scouting or preparing for a new attack on Gundbarg she would have expected a smaller ship. It didn't make sense to her, and when something didn't make sense to Jillian, she usually poked it with a stick.

She stood up in the boat and looked over at Susannah, and it was almost as if the other woman had already guessed what was on her mind, because the glare she directed at her, and the harsh tone of her _sending_ was almost enough to make Jillian sit down again.

 _Don't you dare._

Jillian didn't say anything, just looked at Susannah, locking eyes with her as she slowly started climbing up on the rock to get a better look at the ship.

At the top she turned her gaze to The Mistress, it didn't look to be anchored, but the sails were down, and it was drifting along the edge of the border. In the mast there were the two flags, too far to make out the details, only the tell-tale colours told of its Luskan origin. She waited to see what was going to happen, there had to be a reason they were here. There was movement on the deck, people running around, it looked like they were preparing to hoist the sails, but they were waiting for something.

A group of people, to far to make out any details, were gathering at the starboard side. There seemed to be some conversation, a disagreement perhaps? A scuffle? It didn't take long before she got the answer, as one of the people were thrown overboard, followed shortly by a sinker. This was an execution.

If there was anything she had learned from her unfortunate visits to Luskan in the past, it was that they were a bunch of assholes. And that alone told her everything she needed to know about the situation. If Susannah had been a gambling woman, Jillian might even have bothered suggesting a bet, that whoever the person was that just went overboard, they were a saint, probably blessed by Valkur, and their crime was rescuing a child from a tree or something.

Jillian felt the cold anger bubble up inside again, she wanted to sink that ship, but even she knew that was impossible, or was it? _Yes, yes it is impossible, try something else._ Her hands balled into fists, her knuckles were white with the effort, but she stayed still, Susannah's calm voice echoing in her head, _wait and see,_ at least she thought it must be her, though it was a bit darker. Oh, no matter. So, she waited, she saw, and the sails were hoisted, The Mistress picked up speed and headed back towards its home port.

As soon as the sails were up, she slid down and started hoisting her own sail, using one of the paddles to push them out into the current again.

 _What's wrong, why the hurry? Can't we wait a bit longer?_

"No, they threw someone over board, we don't have time to be careful!"

They were off like a shot, the wind carrying them over to the edge, the water starkly becoming darker. Jillian rummaged through her pack as the boat moved, looking for that potion she had bought only a few days before, one she had saved up for a long time, waiting for summer to come around so she could go exploring off the coast unhindered. She didn't know why she had decided to buy it already, rather than wait, but Valkur or her father had to have guided her hand, because there had never been such an urgent need for a potion of water breathing as now. She downed the content, threw off as much of her clothes as she had time for and when they were over the spot where a few small air bubbles were still breaking the surface, she dived in. Susannah could only look on with wide eyes, trying to hold the boat steady and not drift to far off.

The water was cold, so very cold, and it was dark down here, but she could see something, far down in the dancing seaweeds. She swam towards it, knife between her teeth, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. Down and down she went, until the seabed became clear, the man- for it was a man- swaying gently with the current, there were no more air bubbles.

She struggled the last few meters, the pressure making her ears hurt. She cut him loose, left the blade there on the bottom and started dragging him to the surface. As big as he was, he was thin and emaciated, Jillian wouldn't be able to lift him on land, but here she managed to pull his weight, internally cursing the entirety of Luskan with each kick of the water.

Susannah kept her eyes on the surface, waiting for Jillian to show up, trying to _send_ to her, just to see if she was within reach yet. It felt like an eternity had passed when she finally heard the loud cursing of Jillian, on the other side of the boat from where she thought she was going to pop up. Together they managed to wrestle the unconscious man into the boat, dripping wet, cold, and not breathing.

"Oh man, I was wrong, that was not how I thought that potion worked," Jillian managed to get out along with the water she coughed up.

"He's not breathing, what- I don't- I don't know what to do." She coughed some more.

 _Then you'll breath for him, and I'll be his heart._

Susannah started pressing down on his chest rhythmically, Jillian taking a second to comprehend what she meant before remembering what they had discussed earlier, how one could bring someone back without magic, as long as you're fast enough.

It didn't take too long before their efforts forced the water out, the man coughing it up, along with bile. His breathing was ragged and strained, but it was there. He fell back, unconscious but alive. They covered him in blankets, and kept vigil on both him, and the quickly retreating stern of The Mistress. Jillian redirected the course in a more southbound direction.

⁓ѝ⁓

Hours passed, they were well into midday before the man woke up again, confused and still shivering under the blankets. Susannah sat by his side and tried to calm him, using her voice for once, not trying to speak directly to his mind, as some found that disconcerting.

"It's alright, you don't need to be afraid." She tried to smile reassuringly, but he just croaked out a broken "no-" and swatted away her hand. He tried to get as far away as he could, banging his head against the rail and rocking the boat.

"Oi, stop that, you'll tip the boat!" Jillian gave the man a stern look, like the ones Susannah usually gave her. There weren't many things she took seriously, but keeping the boat upright when she had two passengers who couldn't swim was a rare exception to the rule.

The man didn't even seem to notice it though. His eyes were wild, his dirty-blond hair and beard unkempt, and his features gaunt. He had been a prisoner of Luskan for some time, and it showed.

Susannah held a hand up to Jillian to keep her quiet. _Let me handle this, he is not well, and your brashness will not be helpful here._ Jillian just huffed but complied.

"We are friends. Jillian here," she gestured behind her without looking, "pulled you out of the water, and we brought you back. We won't hurt you, we want to help." The man just stared at her like she had two heads, it was impossible to guess what was going through his head. The temptation to just _send_ to him was mounting, but she had a feeling that would just make it worse "My name is Susannah, what's yours?"

Finally, something seemed to click. As if on reflex he stretched out his hand in greeting, bowed his head as much as he could and said, "I am Captain Theodore Roderick Finnley, of The Mis-" he trailed off, staring at something past Susannah's head. There was a clarity in his face now, a focus that hadn't been there before, realisation hitting him of what had transpired. He curled into a ball, facing away from the two of them, and didn't say another word.

Susannah sighed and looked at Jillian, _I don't know what to do, I think he just needs time._

"Aye, time and a strong drink." Jillian's intense stare was firmly planted on _Captain Finnley's_ back. She knew who he was, the name Finnley was whispered with fear among the sailors at The Cutlass. But that had been Charles Havelock Finnley, a cruel man, and one of the High Captains of the Luskan fleet. The Mistress belonged to his family. Just by virtue of being from Luskan, from that family, she wanted to hate him- but, she had to admit, since his own had tried to kill him, he was probably a stand-up guy with sunshine coming out of his ass.

She had to think about this, thankfully they had time, as the trip down to Neverwinter was at least a few days.

⁓ѝ⁓

During the voyage Theodore didn't speak much, but as they got closer to port, he seemed to perk up. Susannah had also been a bit morose, but when the spires of the various temples and castles came into view, her mood got better, and Jillian thought they were both weirdoes. Who likes cramped, dark, stinky cities better than the open sea? Weirdoes, that's who.

When the boat bumped into the pier, Jillian and Susannah jumped ashore and moored it up. Theodore got up on still shaky legs. He had spent more or less his whole life at sea, but with everything that had happened, he was glad to be on solid land again.

After selling the stolen dinghy, they spent a few nights in the city. Jillian tried to get in touch with her friends, but they were all either out of port, had found other work, or gone to some new city further inland. This struck her as odd, though she wasn't sure, new cities didn't just pop out of the ground like that, did they? She knew magic could do amazing things, but surely that was a bit over the top. She related the information, and her questions to the other two over a pint of ale that tasted worse than it had a right to.

Theodore had managed to get his hands on a razor, and was now freshly shaven, his hair tied back, and with new cloths that made him look like any ol' sailor, and not the noble-man the two halflings now knew him to be.

"I think I know which city you speak of." He took a big gulp of the horrible liquid, almost choking as Jillian gently tipped the bottom a bit further in encouragement. Susannah swatted at her.

He coughed and cleared his throat before he continued, "I've heard some of the others speak of the city of Miraport in the north-east, a fast-growing city with the guild at its heart." He looked at the now empty cup, contemplating whether to get another. With Jillian there though, there was no contemplating, she immediately waved down one of the servers and they brought over another flagon.

"What guild?", Jillian's voice was the very paragon of scepticism, she leaned over conspiratorially, "is it evil? Is it a guild of evil wizards? Is that why they've grown so fast? Huh?"

Theodore gave her an uncertain look. He was still trying to figure out if she was joking when she got like that or not. "Uh, no, or I don't think so. My father-," the word felt heavy in his mouth, "said the woman who runs the guild, and apparently the city as well, was the same one who defeated Thorne all those years ago. He's not a fan of her exactly."

Jillian slammed her tankard down, the piss poor ale sloshing over the rim. "It's settled then, we go to Miraport!"

Susannah and Theodore exchanged looks, both a bit confused how she arrived at that conclusion. But after downing the remaining content of her cup, Jillian just looked at them like she was ready to go, right now.

"I mean, I hate Luskan, no offence Theo", he waved a hand in a gesture of _none taken_ , "so, if there is a woman out there who managed to tear that shit stain of a man from the iron hold he had on life, I want to meet her. Hell, I want her to adopt me and keep me safe in her bosom for ever." There was an awkward pause as the other two processed what she just said.

"So, we'll sleep, we'll buy provisions, and then we'll-" she shivered dramatically, "go further inland," she gaged a little for effect. Why this girl was a sailor and not an entertainer was beyond Susannah.

Despite the uncertain logic behind the decision, no one had a better idea for where they could go and be safe. So, in the morning they prepared and joined a trading caravan heading for Miraport.

The road was full of dangers, but the people guarding the caravan were well trained and well armed. Through conversation they discovered they were actually city guards from Miraport, and prospective guild members serving as guards while they got their evaluation.

Jeff, one of the guards, pointed over to a half elf with a clipboard taking notes, "he's evaluating us, when he says we can join the guild, then we can join the guild. He's a right ass about it though, every time you say something he writes something down, and you have no idea if it's good or bad. Half the time I think he just does it to fuck with us. When you get guard duty, pray to Torm you don't get one of those assholes as evaluator."

"When we get guard duty? What?" Jillian looked at the man with one eyebrow raised, "Is that something all visitors have to do? Are we being kidnapped? Is that it? Is it a cult? Answer me man!"

"Uuuuh, no?" He looked uncertain, and a little afraid.

Theodore put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "she jests… I think."

Jeff just shook his head, why were the small ones always so strange?

"I just assumed you were joining the guild. If it's not merchants or refugees, it's adventurers seeking to join The Outcasts. You don't look like merchants, but I guess you could be refugees?" He shrugged and gave them an apologetic smile. He had a tendency to assume, it had gotten him in trouble more than once.

Jillian broke out in giggles, "I'm messing with you." She nudged him playfully in the hip, "Never thought about joining. Is it hard? Are there tests? Written tests?" A look of absolute dread came over her face, and this time it was genuine.

"No no, -well, you'll have to square off with Yvonne, and there is an interview, and there is training, but no written tests no." He chuckled, this one was going to be a laugh to see in uniform, he could already tell.

A few days later they arrived in Miraport, a busy city, chaotic and alive. The random layout of the streets telling the story of its growth, there had been no plan, and people had built where there was room to build. A broad cobbled street ran through the city directly from the main gates to the open gates of the walls surrounding the guild estate. Jillian felt like she was suffocating. The sheer number of people was enough to make her almost climb up on Theodore's back, without asking first. How could people live like this?! So far from the sea?! Were they insane? They had to be, there was no other logical answer.

 _It's going to be alright Jillian. We'll stay here as long as we have to and return to the coast when we are ready._

"I'm ready _now_." Jillian was sulking, no one was happy when Jillian got in that mood.

"Ready for what?" Theodore looked down at the little woman basically clinging to his leg, making it very difficult for him to walk.

"To join the guild, right Jillian?" Susannah gave her a stern look. They had agreed to keep the _sending_ between them, but it was difficult when Jillian refused, or simply forgot to answer with her mind instead of her voice.

"Uh, yeah, that, the guild, The Outcasts, that one, _The_ Guild, that we are joining, right now." Jillian's eyes flicked around with every word, she was putting effort into seeming shifty for comedic effect.

Susannah resisted the urge to slap her forehead, this was going to be more difficult than she had imagined.

They started the walk up the hill to the inner gates, here was where the adventure began in earnest.


	6. Xion enters stage left

Xion walked slowly down the darkened hall leading to Jarlaxle's office. He went through the list of possible snitches who might have ratted him out. It didn't add up though, he had been so careful. He had even timed himself, making sure he was back underground before his Disguise Self dropped. He'd just wanted to experience the city in the day, on his free time, not having to scurry from shadow to shadow to avoid detection, and actually talk to people, like a normal person… So much for the Guard Captains sweet words and promises of freedom. "Come to the surface," he said, "fight for me," he said, "be proud and unafraid, master of your own life!" he said! What a bunch of bull. What had changed, really? Nothing, just exchanging the iron clad boot of the matrons for the Guard Captain's.

He took a deep breath and readied himself before knocking on the door, his heart was beating, and his hands were clammy. _Get it together! Remember: Don't show any fear._

"Yes, come in," Xion opened the door, his face blank, before it changed to slight confusion at the grinning Jarlaxle sitting behind his desk, "close the door behind you boy."

Not what he had expected. Then again, he had learned since coming into this environment of only male drow, that without the constant threat of females around, the solidarity between the men turned sour, and the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. His captain was probably thrilled at the thought of punishing him. He steeled himself for what was to come.

Jarlaxle gave him a puzzled look, "why so grim boy? You look like you're headed for the gallows," the Guard Captain chuckled. He motioned for Xion to come closer, he obliged and stood about a foot from the desk, just in case.

Jarlaxle decided to ignore the younger drow's strange behaviour and handed him a piece of paper. It was a bounty- for a dead man- of 15 000 gold pieces! Finally, it sank in that he wasn't in trouble, but being sent on a mission. He stared at the bounty in disbelief.

"Wha- I- wait? Theodore Finnley? The High Captain's son? I thought he was executed."

"He was, lots of witnesses for the show too apparently. They like to paint us as the savages, yet the High Captain goes and has his own son executed, for smuggling of all things." The Guard Captain's lips curled into a disgusted snarl. "Still, it seems young master Theodore has escaped his waterlogged fate and has joined the enemy of Luskan. It's almost poetic."

"So- you want to collect on the bounty?" Xion wasn't sure he wanted to get roped into political drama, but the money was good.

"Tch, don't be ridiculous. 15 000 gold pieces is nothing compared to what that boy is worth to us if we play our cards right." Jarlaxle gave Xion a few seconds to digest that bit of information.

"So- we're going to kill-" he stopped himself when he saw the look the Guard Captain was giving him, "-we're going to find him, and kidnap him?", Jarlaxle's frown turned into a smile as Xion seemed to get where he was going with this, "and use him as leverage?"

"Sort of. Leave the finer details to me. I have plans for the boy, that is all you need to know." Jarlaxle's toothy grin was an unsettling sight to be sure, Xion was just glad he was not the target of the Guard Captain's interest.

"Go talk to Cinder, he'll fill you in on what we currently know, and what the plan is. You're leading this mission, congratulations. If you manage to not fuck this up, there is a promotion to lieutenant in it for you." Jarlaxle clamped both his hands on Xion's shoulders, making his knees almost buck under him.

"Aye, I'll go do that, right now. I won't fail you sir." He snapped to attention as best he could. The Guard Captain just rolled his eye and dismissed him.

Xion stood outside the office door for a few seconds, processing the fact that he had managed to walk about the city in broad daylight without being noticed by Jarlaxle's spies, and was even on his way to a promotion! _Unless I fuck it up of course…_ There was that.


	7. Old adventures in Neverwinter

_Three years ago…_

The city of Neverwinter was darkened by the oncoming storm, the streets overrunning with rainwater, as the storm drains overfilled. The patrons of the Driftwood Tavern were nice and cosy inside while those caught in the rain ran for shelter. The fireplace was blazing hot, a few drenched guests who didn't make it in in time were drying off, there was a bard in the corner trying to drown out the din of people slowly getting sloshed, and at the bar a brooding man kept a keen eye on everything and everyone.

"You alright there mister?"

The cheerful voice of Madame Rosene broke through Xion's contemplations.

"Huh? What? Yes, just a lot on my mind is all."

Even after almost three decades on the surface he still wasn't used to the friendly manner humans talked to each other; polite, but not in a sarcastic or scathing way. It was weird. And he knew that if he hadn't been hiding behind an arcane mask, the tone would be entirely different. He downed the rest of his ale, he'd been seen, his presence noted, that would have to suffice to establish his cover, for now.

Before he could get up and leave however, the door to the tavern opened with a crash, the wind ripping it out of the hands of the child that stood there illuminated by the lighting storm that had now reached its apex.

A burly woman sitting near the entrance started swearing and got up to slam the door shut. The child darted in before the door closed. After that initial, dramatic entrance, most of the patrons went back to their conversations, pointedly ignoring the drenched child as he made his way through the tables, half-heartedly begging for coin.

Xion noticed he was still only half-way out of his chair, the loud noise of the slamming door having completely caught him off guard and sent him to a place- he didn't want to dwell on.

The child was half-elven by the looks of it, dark-skinned, with pointed ears sticking out from the mop of black hair now sticking to his forehead and neck. Xion could see the switch in the child's objective as it realised that no one was going to take pity on him. Before he had the time to react, a small pocket knife came out, and there went the string on a particularly snobby-looking patron's coin purse.

And there came the backhand from said snobby-looking patron. Xion was across the room before things could escalate further.

"You, boy, you're late, I've been waiting for an hour." He stormed over, doing his best angry-father-impression.

He placed himself between the boy and the patron, grabbed the kid by the arm and started dragging him along. But of course, it's never that easy. The kid was too shocked to resist, but the patron, a thin, tall human in purple robes with gold trim, and an immaculate beard, put a hand on Xion's shoulder.

"My purse first, if you don't mind." Polite and terrifying, with an underlying threat of violence, now that was more familiar, this he knew how to respond to.

Xion swung the boy around to face the patron, who was clearly some kind of magic user, with a bad temper and little control over his emotions, as small sparks of arcane power flickered over his hands. Or maybe he had exceptional control and was just trying to intimidate. Either way, Xion was intimidated, not that that had ever stopped him before.

Xion let out a dramatic sigh, and shook the boy a little, "what have I told you about pickpocketing boy?" He hoped to god the kid wouldn't object to the lies that were quickly coming out of his mouth, that would be awkward.

"My apologies Serah, he has sticky fingers, he gets that from his mother. Give this gentleman his purse back," he hesitated for only a second before deciding to commit to the character, stage whispering to the boy: "and when I'm done with you those fingers won't be straying into any pockets for some time."

The kid flinched visibly at the threat and quickly handed over the purse before Xion roughly dragged him along up to the room he had ordered earlier. He could feel the boy shaking, from terror or the cold, or both. Xion felt a knot of guilt forming in his throat, but it was important to keep up the charade until they were far from the common room, out of sight and earshot.

The room was, like the rest of the tavern, pleasant and comfortable, with one bed, and a small table with a chair by the window. Xion pushed the boy in before taking a quick glance around the hallway and shutting and locking the door. He rested his head against the frame, internally berating himself for getting involved, for making a scene, for adding all this to his cover. He would need to come up with a new face now.

Connor stood there, looking at the back of this stranger he was sure he didn't know. He thought about all the scary stories the warden at the orphanage had told them about what strangers would do to lone children. He shook his head and took a step back, he didn't want this. He felt that strange feeling from before welling up inside him again, the power, he didn't want that either. He clutched his head, tears falling freely now, he was losing control again.

Xion turned around when the kid started moving, and was, to put it mildly, confused. He looked like he was in pain. So strange- oh, oh no, wait, he'd seen this before, shit!

"Hey, hey, hey kid," he knelt down in front of the boy, putting his hands on those tiny, bony shoulders, "hey, don't do that, that's an outdoors activity. I'm not gonna hurt you, that was just- acting…" he finished lamely.

Connor heard the words, he understood, but still that uncontrolled feeling of destructive energy wouldn't go away. He was so close, so close to loosing it. Until he looked up into those green eyes, the kind smile, the human- poof, one hour since the spell was cast. The shock on Connor's face was mirrored on Xion's as he felt the spell dissipate, the illusion of a human form gone, replaced with that of his own drow visage.

"Well shit…" Xion didn't really know what else to say, but at least the tavern was still standing, so that was a good sign. Shock the kid out of his spiralling emotions was also a technique he supposed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" The boy was transfixed but nodded all the same.

Xion looked him over, the boy was drenched in rainwater, and when he looked at his hands, there were definitely some mana-burns. _This kid_. He started muttering in Undercommon and went over to his pack to see if he had remembered to bring any bandages, he had. He also took out a green tunic that was too big for the kid, but better than the wet rags he was currently wearing.

"Here," he tossed the tunic at the boy, "what's your name boy?"

"Connor," he croaked out, "I'm-" he stopped himself before he said something wrong. This was a weird situation, but he didn't want to piss this stranger off. Especially since he was a- a _drow_. The warden had told them even scarier stories about the drow. That they ate children! Or kidnapped them and made them slaves in the Underdark! He didn't want to think about it. He just peeled the wet clothes off and put on the tunic. It was warm and dry, and smelled faintly of cured leather.

Xion motioned for Connor to sit on the chair while he put some salve on the burns and bandaged his hands and arms. It was an awkward silence, Connor didn't know where to look, didn't know what any of this meant, and he was so tired, so very, very tired.

"Uh, yeah, my names Xion by the way. You uh-" he hesitated for a second, he didn't really know what to do next, he hadn't been around children since he was a kid himself, and he doubted that those experiences were of any help in this situation.

"Listen, I don't know what you did," he gestured to the burn marks, "but- I don't really sleep in the normal sense, so-" _Gods, why was this so difficult?!_

"You can have the bed, alright? If you want it, no questions asked, as long as you also don't ask any questions, alright? We don't know each other, we never even met. Anyone asks, that guy that dragged you upstairs is your father, and he's a right piece of shit, okay?"

Connor just nodded.

"Alright, good… go to sleep."

⁓ѝ⁓

The next day Xion put on the guise of the abusive father and dragged the kid out of the tavern during breakfast hour. That face was useless now, too much attention drawn to it. He found a different tavern, the Beached Leviathan. It fit better with the cover story anyways.

There was a new problem though, the kid was following him. He wasn't very good at shadowing without being detected, but he was tenacious. Xion was too soft when it came to these things, his companions back in Luskan made sure to tell him that often. What he should have done was scare the kid off, send him running, show him some of that cruelty that his kin were so famous for- but he couldn't. He just looked at that sad face and remembered every grown up who he now knew had failed him at every step in his life. It was strange how witnessing loving parents and healthy relationships here on the surface had completely shattered his idea of normal.

So he let the kid stay, _but only one more night!- okay, two nights- maybe three, it's not like I was using the bed anyways- four? God dammit, yes, just stay, I don't mind! …it's actually kind of nice to have company…_

The mission he was on, to exterminate the last remainders of the Dead Rats presence in Neverwinter, took longer than anticipated. He ended up in a few unfortunate situations, plans went awry, as they do, and the Rats were fighting back. His job had been to disguise himself as an informant, a turn cloak from the Rats, and gently guide the city guards towards the few safehouses Bregan D'aerthe knew about, and also try and suss out if the guards knew about any others. That all went to shit when one of the guards turned out to be a member of the street gang, and first of all didn't recognize Xion's disguise as someone he knew, and then saw through it on closer inspection.

⁓ѝ⁓

"Shit, shit, shit-" Xion's foot almost slipped on the wet cobbles as he rounded the corner of the alley. This day had started out bad, and just gotten worse as it progressed. He was currently being chased by five guardsmen, his disguise had dropped, and they were going to kill him if they caught up. How did he end up in these situations?!

A few quarters ahead he saw some crates and barrels stacked up against the wall, his way out; they were wearing much heavier armour, things were looking up already-

He spoke too soon. At the intersecting alley two guards barrelled into him, knocking him over, his arrows spilling out on the cobbles. They'd split up and gone around, not so stupid after all these guards. Xion rolled over avoiding the iron clad shoe of another guard as it came down heavy where his head had been moments before. "Shit, shit, shit-"

He scrambled to get up, he couldn't take on five men, five dogs maybe- actually, no, now that he thought about it, dogs could be very vicious. One of the guards drove the pommel of his sword into Xion's temple. He got his dagger out and gave the guard a nasty gash under his vambrace and was rewarded with a gauntleted fist to the face.

They tried to subdue him. After a bit of dancing back and forth one of them managed to grab a hold of the slippery elf and knocked him to his knees. The beating that followed could almost compare to that time he accidentally spilled some wine on his little sister's ceremonial robes, but not quite that bad. Still, unlike his family, these guys weren't going to stop when he stopped moving, they were going to make sure he never got up again.

In his dark musings, Xion didn't see the small figure darting across the alley. He also didn't see the cobblestones start to crack. In fact, he was completely oblivious of everything that followed, as he blacked out before the first guard started screaming.

⁓ѝ⁓

"Mister? Hey mister? You alive?" Someone was slapping him on the cheek with a wet cloth- no wait, wet hands- sticky hands?

Connor was sitting over him, looking at him with a worried expression, and covered in blood and soot. He glanced around, with his one intact eye. There were three corpses that he could see, they looked like they had been blown open and grilled, smoke still rising from them. _This kid_.

"ugh- give me a hand kiddo-" he could barely move, he needed a healer, preferable one who didn't ask too many questions.

Connor took his hand, Xion had to lean heavily on him as his leg was busted, and he was pretty sure at least five ribs were broken. They made their way down the alley, slowly, every step was agony.

"I- I know someone, a priest, he'll fix you up in no time!"

Connor did know a priest, a scary priest, who always scowled, and never spoke to anyone. He was a healer at the temple nearby where the orphanage was… had been… He helped Xion pull the cowl over his face to hide what he was, and they continued on in silence.

⁓ѝ⁓

The sun had already set and Dawnbringer Brandon was ready to lock up the little Temple to Lethander and prepare the evening prayer. No one had showed up for the midday mass… again, and he didn't expect anyone to show up for the evening prayer either, so he thought he might as well just lock the doors. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered unlocking them in the morning at all.

There was a knock on the temple doors as he lit the last candle on the altar. He looked at the door dumbfounded before strode over to see if it was another prank. He was elated to hear that no, there was actually someone out there on the steps.

"Hey? Priest? Are you home? We need help." There was another weak knock on the door before he could get it unlocked.

The boy shrank back a little as Brandon stepped out on the stairs of the temple, his orcish traits made even more brutish-looking in the light from the lantern hanging over the door. Leaning on the small boy was a cloaked figure, by what little he could tell from where he was standing, someone who was badly beaten and about to collapse. The blood and grime on the boy was disconcerting too, but he didn't seem seriously hurt, so that would have to wait.

The half-orc waved them in without a word. This he was accustomed to, but usually the thieves and criminals who needed healing came in through the back, not the front door. He guessed the kid didn't know any better. He led them to a little room behind the altar, gesturing for the cloaked figure to lie down on the table in the middle.

Xion gratefully collapsed on the table, at this point not even able to care about the reaction that would follow when his hood fell back. Connor went to sit on the chair in the corner, but Brandon gestured to the door, "there's a basin of water in my room, go get cleaned off."

He turned to the drow bleeding out on his table. He'd seen all sorts come through here, but he was sure this was the first denizen of the Underdark that had ended up in his care. He cracked his knuckles and got to work, there were a lot of bones that needed setting.

⁓ѝ⁓

After cleaning off the worst of the gore Connor felt a bit better, at least until he heard the half-choked cry of pain coming from the room behind the alter. He knew healing wasn't a quick fix, but a small surge of energy shot through him at the sound. Afraid he might lose control again, he left the temple and took a walk.

His feet brought him to the orphanage, or what was left of it. There was a giant hole in the roof and the front wall of the second floor, where the lightning had struck and travelled on into the ground. He stood there looking, but not really seeing, his mind somewhere else.

He was brought out of his musings by a cold gust of wind, his clothes still sticky with blood and not really doing much to keep the chilly autumn air out. He decided to go back, maybe the priest was done now.

⁓ѝ⁓

Xion sat, half-awake, on the table, just observing the half-orc as he cleaned up his instruments after the ordeal. He wasn't entirely sure he was still alive, his body felt a bit light, and everything had a fuzzy quality to it.

"How much?" he couldn't remember if he had brought his coin purse, maybe he'd lost it in the scuffle? He looked over at his armour lying in a pile on the floor, that would need some repair. This had been a very expensive trip.

"For the healing, or for shutting up?"

"Uuuh, yeah, that." Xion swayed a little.

Brandon turned and gave the drow a quizzical look. He supposed, just like not all half-orcs fit the stereotypes, perhaps not all drow did either. This one at least didn't seem likely to stab him in the back as a thanks, which was refreshing.

"Don't worry about it. It comes with the job. Lethander's grace and gifts would leave me if I started charging people."

Xion's mind was still sluggish, "that doesn't sound like good business practice. You should find a different employer." He made an undignified squeaking sound as he got off the table.

Brandon couldn't help but chuckle, "they really did a number on your head, didn't they? Sit down again, I don't think we're done yet."

⁓ѝ⁓

Connor sat on the steps waiting, he didn't want to go inside again, felt like something was watching him in there, it was creepy. Eventually Xion staggered out of the door, armour slung over his shoulder, and still a bit unsteady.

"Hey," he ruffled Connor's hair, his hand coming away with flakes of dried blood, "oh, yeah, shit, kid, that was insane, good job." He sat down beside Connor. The boy picked at the dried blood, apparently suddenly aware that it was there.

"I think I'm done here." He looked at the kid, but couldn't look at him, so he looked at the cloud covered sky instead.

"I'm pretty sure there is no way to salvage my mis- uh, what I came here to do, so I have to get back- report in and all. Tell em what happened etcetera." He sighed, he was in for such a scolding when he got back to Jarlaxle, if he was lucky.

"It's not a place for kids, you know? Horrible city really, this place is better, believe it or not."

Connor just nodded, looking down at his hands, the bandages had come undone and the burn marks were visible. He picked at that too.

"Don't do that," Xion put a hand on Connor's to keep him from making it worse.

Xion felt like the worst piece of shit to ever walk Toril but feeling and being are two entirely different things. He dug out his coin purse, he had brought it with him after all. He counted the coins, looked at the kid, and just handed him the whole thing. He had some reserves in his pack at the tavern, enough to get back home.

"Woah! Mister?" Connor's eyes widened as Xion dropped the heavy coin purse in his lap.

"You take that, get yourself fixed up, and you find yourself someone who needs an apprentice. This is a growing city, there's enough work to be had."

He got up, the stone steps were killing his back, he felt like old men looked.

"Wait, where are you going?" Connor suddenly started to come out of the contemplative mood he'd been in as it seemed Xion was about to leave him too.

"I'm going- home, I guess you can call it. When you're older, if you ever find yourself in Luskan, for some god forsaken reason," he hesitated for a second, but thought, what the hell, this kid probably won't ever leave this city anyways, "come find me at the One-Eyed Jax, it's a tavern where I… hang out, when I'm in town."

And that was it. He walked away, leaving Connor to stare after him as he vanished in the night. The boy was left sitting there for a good, long while, until he heard a shift behind him. The priest was standing in the doorway. Xion had told the Dawnbringer about Connor's burns before leaving. Brandon gestured for the boy to follow him inside.

The next morning Connor left the temple with new bandages, a bit dejected and hurt that Xion had just left him there… but still, he knew what to do now, so there was that. He looked towards the orphanage and tested the weight of the coin purse. Time to fix what he broke.


End file.
